<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>The First Blossoms of Spring by FrenchKey</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29906517">The First Blossoms of Spring</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrenchKey/pseuds/FrenchKey'>FrenchKey</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Flowers, Fluff, M/M, Reunions, Spring</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 19:15:46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,399</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29906517</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrenchKey/pseuds/FrenchKey</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Four men ride towards their loves and muse on the nature of the turning seasons.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aiden/Lambert (The Witcher), Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>The Witcher Flash Fiction Challenge #017</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The First Blossoms of Spring</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for Witcher Flash fic.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Spring slid gently over the Continent that year. It crept up on them in warm breezes, tiny green shoots pushing through snow and the bleating of baby goats. Even with all the evidence of his senses, Geralt still awoke one morning and realised that Spring had truly set in when he wasn’t looking. The pass was open. He stayed another week to prepare and pack and help Vesemir close up the areas of the keep that would be out of use until the next winter. Then, he checked over Roach’s tack one last time and announced his imminent departure at dinner.</p>
<p>‘I’ll head out tomorrow as well,’ Lambert said, nodding at him.</p>
<p>Geralt nodded back, accepting. Honestly, he was a little surprised Lambert hadn’t left already. The youngest wolf was usually first down the mountain, sometimes leaving while there was still snow on the ground. None of them begrudged him, knowing the ghosts that stalked him when he was in the keep. </p>
<p>The next morning dawned cool and crisp. Frost lay across the grass in a sparkling blanket. The air burned the back of Geralt’s throat as he inhaled and he smiled. The sky was a clear, cloudless powder blue. They couldn’t ask for better weather to navigate the tricky upper reaches of the trail. </p>
<p>He took his time tacking Roach and Lambert joined him long before he was done. He set to work preparing his own horse, a younger  grey gelding that Lambert swore was nameless. Geralt had heard him though, feeding the horse treats and calling him Stormcloud. Soon, they were ready to go. They led the horses into the courtyard and took their leave of Eskel and Vesemir. Eskel would follow them down the trail in a few weeks, once he’d seen all the goats through their kidding. Vesemir would only leave for a few weeks at a time to take nearby contracts and collect supplies from the town at the base of the mountain. None of them would see each other until the next winter. </p>
<p>Geralt clung to Eskel for one last, long hug. Lambert darted in for a quick hug from Vesemir. Goodbyes said, they set off together, breathing the spring air. </p>
<p>They travelled in silence for a stretch, more concerned with keeping their footing and that of the horses than speaking. Once they were past the worst, however, Lambert struck up conversation.</p>
<p>‘Where are you headed first?’ he asked.</p>
<p>Geralt shrugged. ‘I’ll head south as always,’ he said, ‘Probably start off in Redania then head for Temeria. What about you?’</p>
<p>‘South too. Not like there’s any other direction we can go,’ Lambert laughed, indicating the mountains that cut off access to the north. ‘Think I’ll probably head down towards Lyria, maybe swing into Toussaint. I fancy some warmth after those snows.’</p>
<p>‘Hmm,’ Geralt agreed. The snows had been particularly deep that winter and they’d ended up all sleeping in a pile in the hall for three long weeks just to keep their fingers and toes attached. </p>
<p>‘Feels like it’s going to be a mild spring though, doesn’t it,’ Lambert remarked, staring around at the plethora of buds and shoots that were beginning to emerge.</p>
<p>‘It does rather,’ Geralt agreed. He was looking forward to it. He was more than ready for some warmth to come back into his life. </p>
<p>They made good progress down the trail, making it to the bottom of the Witcher trail and onto the wide track that passed into the valley before the night began to draw in. They made camp together, working like a well oiled wheel. As they lay in their bedrolls, staring up at the stars, Geralt heard Lambert sigh.</p>
<p>‘D’you ever wish…’ he started.</p>
<p>Geralt waited patiently as his brother seemed to struggle for words.</p>
<p>‘D’you ever wish things were different?’ he said eventually. Once, he would have asked that question with bitterness and anger flavouring his tone, but now he just sounded wistful.</p>
<p>‘Yeah,’ Geralt agreed, ‘I do.’</p>
<p>‘You got people you miss too? When you’re stuck up there all winter?’ Lambert asked, so quiet that Geralt wouldn’t have heard him, if not for his enhanced hearing. He wondered who Lambert was thinking of in that moment.</p>
<p>‘Yeah,’ Geralt sighed again, ‘I do.’ He thought of blue eyes, a cheeky smile and a snatch of notes, floating on the breeze.</p>
<hr/>
<p>A week later they were on the road out of Ard Carraigh, heading south. They drew their horses to a halt at the crossroads. </p>
<p>‘Well, I guess this is it,’ Lambert grinned, ‘Try not to get your ass killed, yeah?’</p>
<p>Geralt laughed. ‘Make sure you bring your ugly mug home next year,’ he responded.</p>
<p>‘Sure, sure,’ Lambert agreed, sticking his tongue out, like the child he clearly still was. </p>
<p>They offered each other hearty back slaps, then turned their horses in opposite directions. They didn’t look back as they rode off, each more interested in where they were going than where they had come from.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Geralt turned west, towards the southern edge of the Kestrel Mountains. From there, he would cross into Redania and make his way south and west until he followed the Pontar towards Oxenfurt. </p>
<p>The weather was pleasant as he rode. Contracts were still few and far between, with a number of monsters hibernating through the colder months and not emerging until later in the season, but he made enough money to keep himself fed. Between civilisations, he hunted for meat and foraged or wild vegetables and greens to bulk out his meals. </p>
<p>One day, he looked up from the patch of wild garlic he was harvesting to find the branch in front of him dripping with white flowers. He smiled. The wiśnia blossoms were out. He plucked a handful of the tiny blossoms and threaded them into Roach’s mane as he rode. He remembered the lesson Vesemir had given on the delicate blossoms. </p>
<p>‘These little flowers,’ he’d said, ‘May look delicate and fragile, but they’re more than they seem. They flower early in spring, as soon as the snow melt starts to run. They’ll grow anywhere, under almost any conditions as long as they can get a drop of water and an hour or two of sun a day. They have some medicinal uses, for humans at least, but for us they have a different meaning. They mean life. They mean survival. They show that no matter what, we will continue to live and fight for another year. Look for them when you return to the Path in the spring. Remember, you’re not just a Witcher, you’re a Wolf and wolves have a pack.’</p>
<p>Geralt looked at those blossoms until they withered away and smiled as he rode towards the missing member of his pack.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Lambert continued on the south road, heading for Aedirn and onwards to Lyria. He didn’t know exactly where he was going, but he knew the rough area and he was adept at following rumours and suggestions and hints to get where he needed to be. </p>
<p>He made good time, mostly camping in the wilderness and hunting for his meals. His dreams were full of long red hair, swept back into a bun, freckles dusted cheeks and a laugh that sounded like a horse braying but was sweeter than any songbird. </p>
<p>He saw the first flowers just outside of Vengerberg. They were clinging to the side of a barn and just beginning to bloom. Wiśnia blossoms were common across the Continent in spring, but they always lightened his heart when he saw them. Varin hadn’t had much to say about them when he taught botany, but the words still brought comfort. </p>
<p>‘These are useless unless you’re human, which you’re not. Don’t bother picking them. Rumours say the Cats use them in their Swallow. Don’t. All that’ll do is make inferior Swallow and dead Witchers,’ he’d grumbled as they hunted for the plants they needed for that day’s lesson.</p>
<p>He’d been right about the Cat’s Swallow. It was shit. Better than nothing in a pinch, but shit in a real emergency. Lambert had fixed that as soon as he possibly could. Seeing the blossoms now reminded him who he was riding to and he smiled, urging his horse on.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Jaskier sidestepped a heavy set man and his cart as they tried to run him down. The man grunted in annoyance and Jaskier offered him a cheerful greeting. His pack was slung over his back and his lute hung from a shoulder, ready to be swung up and a jaunty tune picked out. He wound his way through the busy streets of Oxenfurt, barely even wrinkling his nose at the smells that wafted from the gutters in the spring warmth. The city was alive and bustling as the markets began to reopen after the winter closures. People bustled every which way and Jaskier dodged them all, spinning and laughing. </p>
<p>He left the city by the River Gate and turned east. The weary spring sun lit his path and he hummed a quick, trilling tune and he started off. He made his way slowly along the river for the next few days, stopping in towns to overnight in inns and debuting several new songs. He also played some of the better works that had come from the university over the winter term. His audiences were appreciative of anything new after a winter of monotony. Most of them had only had whoever in the town that could play for entertainment and they were starved for novelty. He filled his purse each night, even after paying for food and lodging. </p>
<p>One day, he stopped to drink from a clear stream that cut through the woods and caught sight of a spray of wiśnia flowers, their wite petals standing out against the deep browns and greens of the surroundings. Their delicate pink and red centres added a pop of colour. He smiled, thinking of a long ago lecture on folk tales that he’d half dozed through as a young student. One story had stuck in his head though. It was Kerackian in origin. </p>
<p>Once, or so the tale went, a young maiden had fallen in love with the moon. Every month as the moon waned, she watered the ground with her tears. The gods, seeing this devotion, gave her a gift and every month as the moon grew round and full, the wiśnia blossoms flowered where her tears had fallen, a living reminder of her love during the dark nights. </p>
<p>As a young man, Jaskier had laughed at the fanciful tale and the idiocy of the young woman falling for something so cold and out of reach. As he’d grown, his opinion had changed somewhat. Looking at them now, he remembered that day and he thought of low, toneless hums, the smell of horse and the warmth of an arm around him, always. He contented himself, knowing it wouldn’t be long.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Aiden threw his arms around Gaetan and squeezed him tight. Gaetan grumbled and growled but put up with the manhandling as he always did. He was the last of the Cats that Aiden had to say goodbye to before he left on the Path for the year. As his youngest brother, Aiden made sure to make his hug extra long and then rub the top of his head embarrassingly. He was laughing to himself as he swung up onto his grey mare and rode out of camp. Gaetan’s creative swearing followed him for the first mile.</p>
<p>He rode north, following the roads for Lyria. He’d follow rumour and filled contracts from there to end up where he needed to be. The caravan had wintered further north than usual, so he only had a couple of weeks of riding ahead of him. He might actually be first in the area this year. He grinned to himself, thinking about a brow furrowed in surprised delight, a mouthful of fond curses and waves of untameable dark hair. Not long now. </p>
<p>He kept his eyes peeled, as he always did for the wiśnia blossoms. They were his own personal sign of spring. Although they were far from the first flowers to bloom, they were, in his opinion, the most beautiful. They were a symbol of returning to his love, but that wasn’t all they meant.</p>
<p>Aiden was unusual among the Cats, who tended to claim babies and toddlers to raise as Witchers. Aiden had been nearly seven when Treyse had claimed him and brought him back to the keep to be trained. He was one of the very very few remaining Cats who remembered his family. His mother had loved flowers. She’d been a peasant nobody from a little backwater village, but she’d learned a little herbalism under the healer. More importantly, she had learned to read. One day, she’d gotten her hands on a book of Temerian flower language. Aiden had fond memories of wandering the woods with her, his pudgy hand in hers as she pointed out the various blossoms and told him their meanings.</p>
<p>‘Aiden,’ she’d said, very serious, ‘This here is the wiśnia flower. It’s very important and special in Temeria. It is the flower of a true warrior, a protector. It means duty and honour. Strength, used in defence, never to hurt for the sake of it. Do you understand?’</p>
<p>Aiden had never forgotten that lesson. Even as Stygga fell and Treyse lost his way, taking a large portion of the elder Cats with him, Aiden never raised a blade in anger. He was a warrior built to defend the world against the creatures of the Conjunction. That was his purpose and that was what he would stick to. Most others didn’t understand, but some did. He was riding towards the only other Witcher he’d ever met that followed the same honour code he did.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Spring spread across the Continent, slowly spinning towards summer. The blossoms faded, dropping their petals and disappearing for another year, but the memories they held and their meaning stayed, held tight in hearts that beat slow and strong. Each man found exactly what he was looking for and made the best of the time he had before winter’s grip crept up on him again. Maybe this was the year that it would herald something new. For now though, there were monsters to hunt, songs to sing and warm arms to hold each other safe.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hope you enjoyed! Any comments/kudos would be greatly appreciated to get me though the week.</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>